


he hides, naturally. (don't you ever tame your demons)

by mockingjaybee



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexuality, Consensual Underage Sex, Drug Use, Eggsy's POV, F/M, Gen, Hero Worship, I'm sorry Eggsy, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Like I'm sorry for the Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Molestation, Not your Fault, PTSD, Pining, Post-Movie(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Harm, Sex Work, Sex Worker, Slow Burn, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Triggers, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, kind of a fix it, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:28:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5057440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockingjaybee/pseuds/mockingjaybee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy hides, he can't help it, it's nature now. When things are just too much, he hides, because if he starts telling people the truth, he'll break a promise to a man that gave him a medal, so he hides, runs, whatever he can do to hold onto a little hope, for just a little bit longer. </p><p>It almost works too. Tower Bridge is his favourite place to hide. </p><p>(same old bridge, same old grudges)</p>
            </blockquote>





	he hides, naturally. (don't you ever tame your demons)

**Author's Note:**

> this sort of popped into my head while i was supposed to be working on something else, but this wouldn't go away. i was listening to Angel Of Small Death & The Codeine Scene by Hozier, and this came to mind. this truthfully is mostly gen, with a bit of sex thrown in.
> 
> super, super angsty, you've been warned. un-betaed and not britpicked. if you see any mistakes, please let me know!
> 
> (tiny edit, i just changed up the title a little bit, i like this one much more)

He hides. 

When things are too much, Eggsy hides. That’s what he did when he was little, when he was a teenager, and now, at almost thirty fucking years old, he hides. It’s his nature now, always has been, really. The night Harry told him that his father was dead, and told him to look after his mum? Yeah, the second after he knew his mum was asleep he hide in his favourite tree at the playpark in the estates. 

Michelle found him the next morning, shaking from cold, turning a bit blue as well. It was London during Christmas, so it was cold, and wet. It didn’t snow, not yet, but it will. The sleet was biting but Eggsy refused to leave the tree until his mum started crying all over again; great shaking sobs that Eggsy thought would break his mum. So he climbed down and hugged her. 

He didn’t realize he was shaking, that he was so cold Michelle had thought to take him to hospital, as his lips were purple, not blue, but purple. But, he could move his fingers and toes, so she ran him a very hot bath, and fixed him a cuppa. He did his best to not cry, because he knew if he did, it was all real, that his dad was dead, and Eggsy knew what that meant. It took everything in him to not hide again. 

So, instead, he did whatever his mum asked, and it worked for awhile. He knew he was a good boy, always smiling, getting amazing grades, doing whatever made his mummy smile. She always said he was a cheeky monkey, able to climb anything, get anywhere. So, when she signed him up for gymnastics, he was thrilled. By then Eggsy was nine, and his mum was seeing someone (not Dean, not yet) and even he yelled and clapped when Eggsy got first place. 

They had a little celebration that night, his mates came over (not a single one of them made fun of him, they understood) and when Jamal’s mum said to Michelle, “This may just be the ticket out. He’s got the grades, and now this? He’ll make it out of here, don’t you worry.” 

The was the first time in a long time his mum didn’t fake a smile. It took two years, true, but Eggsy was thrilled. Seeing his mum smile like that was better than winning any award, better than being top in his class. He wanted to make sure he could keep his promise to that man, that he would take care of his mum. 

Another thing happened that night. It was the first time Mr. P (Eggsy refused to think of his name) came into his room, and tried to touch him down _there_. He hit the old bastard in the face with a wild kick, and used his skills to slip away, to seek his mum. Michelle was passed out in bed, sporting a black eye, so he hid. He ran out of the flat in just his socks and sleep clothes, and ran. He jumped the stairs, and went for the roof. Some of the older kids would leave blankets and stuff up there, so he knew he would be ok for awhile. He figured there was several hours before anyone would look for him. 

It was seven hours before he felt safe enough to go back home. He hated the word _home_. That little place wasn’t home to him, not anymore. He went to the little flat, planning on telling his mum what happened, because she always said if _anyone_ ever touched him, tell her, and she would take care of it, she would keep his baby safe. That statement would make Eggsy laugh bitterly for years to come, but as a nine year old, he believed her. He really was too trusting, because it didn't stop, not really.

He went in, face red, eyes puffy from crying, and his mum yelled at him for not being at home, to go to his room, and she would deal with him later. He did without protest, he didn’t see that arsehole there, so he thought he was safe. It was an hour later, where he was sitting on his bed, when she came in, and whispered he was gone, not to worry, just don’t talk about what happened _ever_ to _anyone_ and they would be ok. He was too young to understand that no, they weren’t ok, they wouldn’t be for a long time, but he sobbed and hugged his mother close anyway. 

Michelle married Mr. P the next year. He did, a couple of times touch (and more sadly) Eggsy again, his mum always had bruises, his mates weren’t allowed over anymore. True, he still made great grades, won another medal, his coach wanting him to start training, start home schooling so he could practice year round. He was so excited, but Michelle wasn’t. They didn’t have the money she would say, but he could get grants and the like, it shouldn’t be a problem his coach would basically beg. In the end she agreed to make a trial go of it, just a couple of months like.

Mr. P was gone by the time Eggsy was thirteen, (got himself locked up, caught buying something young and completely illegal) and Dean was around now. Again, Dean acted like he cared. Even agreed on helping pay for Eggsy to keep training. Michelle was better for a bit, and Eggsy didn’t have to hide as much. True, when he heard certain sounds, he would flee, but he assumed his mum and Dean understood. The walls were pretty thin at the estates. 

Two days before his fourteenth birthday, Eggsy was beaten so badly he had to go to the A&E for a broken collar bone. One moment everything was fine, Eggsy was telling his mum about a new thing he learned on the parallel bars, how completely wicked it was, he couldn’t wait to show them, and then Dean was on him like a rabid dog, saying no boy he was around would act like a little _faggot_ , for fucks sake. He tried to fight back, he did, he tried to twist his body and run, but, all that did was cause him to hear the _snap_ when Dean landed the blow. 

The way Dean smirked let Eggsy know he he been waiting for this. He knew at that moment his mum had been taking the beatings for him, again. But, this time, Dean wouldn’t be leaving. He didn’t know why, but he knew his mum wouldn’t leave him. She was already saying Dean didn’t _mean_ it, Eggsy babe _please_ , tell the doctors you fell, he didn’t mean it! 

He got surgery to fix him up, and he learned during physio that while he was still amazing at everything, he wouldn’t be joining no Olympic teams now. Back to state school, where his mates were, but, he had to be different now. He had to fit in. Anything to try to keep his mum safe, even when she refused to save herself. 

He kept hiding. He knew every single inch of the housing estates he was in, and pretty much anywhere around him. Open drains, random roof to some chippy down the block, he knew where to hide. Sometimes it was enough to just ride the tube, use up his Oyster card so he could finish his maths homework, because if he went home, Dean would just be on him to make a run, to do something to earn his keep. 

He liked hiding on bridges, and London was full of them. He could find a little spot in all the open spaces under them, in the cables, it didn’t matter. He could watch people walk by, and they would never see him. He even figured out how to stay hidden from all the CCTV cameras as well, so he was rarely ever bothered by a bobby asking if he was alright, or telling him to get down ‘before he kills ‘imself’, whichever. Sometimes he would say the wrong thing (mostly when he didn’t have the means to get home) so he would be brought back by the squad car, knowing he would get a beating, but, London was hard to get around when you’ve got no money. 

Dean was smart enough to never hit him in the face while school was going on, and he got very good at hiding any bruises or burns that might show when changing, so only Jamal and Ryan knew, but they wouldn’t grass. Mostly because they were scared of Dean and his dogs as well. Still, Eggsy figured if he kept his grades amazing, stay top of the class, he could get into a good or even great 6th form school. He could fix all of this. He made a promise, and Eggsy never broke one, he wasn’t about to start now. 

Eggsy was sixteen, had turned himself into a smart arse little shit so people would leave him well alone, and stop asking questions he couldn’t answer. Still, some people did, and he would just give them his normal “get fucked/piss off” way, and hide. He saw London as _his_ playground now. Free running gave him the chance to be anywhere, whenever he wanted. It was summer, and Dean had kicked him out for the night for some reason, and for once Eggsy didn’t even question it, he left. It was too much, all of it. He started smoking weed, taking some pills when he could just so he could stop himself from going completely mad. He had figured out how to make some good coin now anyway.

He was now eighteen, legal, and was broke, and left all his gear at home (again, it was starting to be a bad habit of his). He knew where he was going, and it wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Smith Street. It saw it as an old haunt now, after going down there for about two years when he needed the money. Dean didn’t know, not yet at least. Eggsy did it to save the money for school, but, Dean had crushed those dreams. It was state school for him, and fine, he’d go, because he loved learning, and ok, he was close to home, and he wouldn’t be as worried for his mum. He wanted to see things in as good of a light as he could, otherwise he would just off himself then and there, but he had to hope there was better for him out there. He refused to call the number, refused to say the passcode, because he could handle what was happening. He could handle blowing some bloke for 20 quid, 50 if they want him to swallow. He could handle the ladies that came to him, wanting him for his body for the night. He treated the birds better than blokes, he figured if they were willing to pick him up for the night, some chav, they must be pretty desperate, and he could relate. They didn’t always want to fuck, sometimes, they just wanted a cuddle. Maybe watch a movie. But, they were human, and they wanted to be fucked just as much as the guys did. (Later, when he told Roxy and Charlie that posh girls love a bit of rough, he'd done the leg work to find that out.) Hundred quid flat out to fuck, no matter guy or girl, and always used protection. No condoms, no fucking chance. He could get more if he wouldn’t always wear them, but fuck that, he wanted to stay clean. He got tested every three months without fail. He got the clap once, and worse - in his fucking throat, so he couldn’t talk or anything for a week, until the meds cleared it up. 

Around then, about a year into his new form of hiding, Dean found out. Eggsy was careless, he went out on a real date with some girl from class, and Dean was sitting on the couch, with the three thousand pounds he had saved on the coffee table. Eggsy didn’t say a word. He had been so happy, making out with this girl, not being paid too, but really wanting too, was a treat for him now. He showed her one of his “spots”, where they could even lay down, and not be watched. (One of the flats was empty, and he figured out how to break in. Ok, not only him, loads of people crashed here, there was a bed, but he had brought clean sheets there earlier, just in case.) They got high, didn’t fuck, but he went down on her. He was replaying the breathy sounds she made when he licked slowly on her clit, when he entered his own flat, licking his lips to remember her taste, her hands in his hair begging for _more, god please don’t stop Eggsy_ , when that feeling crashed and he steeled himself for whatever was to come. 

Dean didn’t say shit, and neither did Eggsy at first. His mom was sitting stock still next to Dean, eyes unfocused, new bruises on her cheek and neck. It felt like all the air had left him, he couldn’t fucking breathe, he figured this was it, this was the thing that was going to have him calling the number on his medal finally, he couldn’t handle this one, when Dean said simply, “You can keep a third of wot you make, yeah, and trust me son, I’ll fuckin' know if you’re keeping any extra, you get me? You ain’t the only one that knows how to hide.” He finished with a shark smile. 

Eggsy nodded, red faced, not saying a word. He moved quickly but carefully and grabbed the thousand he could keep, and looked his mother in the eye. She looked, well, like nothing. She looked at Eggsy like he was nothing, He started to reach out to touch her, to put his hand on her shoulder, when she flinched and snarled out at him, “Don’t you fucking dare touch me you little slag. How fucking _dare_ keep this from us? Just go away Eggsy, I can’t even fuckin' look at you.”

He was so hurt he forgot to be angry at first, but, the anger came later. He just grabbed his money and fled to his room. He couldn’t stop the crying when it started, he couldn’t hold back the sobs that wrecked his body so hard he swore he tore something in his chest, or that was his heart breaking, he was never truly sure on that. The sounds coming out of him were inhuman wails. He never cried, not even when when that man said his father was dead, but this broke him.

As soon as the crying started, it stopped just as quickly, the anger was flooding in now, but he had no outlet. What was he gonna do, go out there at his mum, saying it was all her fault anyway, she was the reason he had to do any of this shit. If she could have just handled being alone, and waiting for someone good, he would be someone else, someone _better_? Maybe have gotten into Eton? Just because _she_ made the choice to lower herself to stay here, at this fucking shit-hole, that _he_ didn’t have to, and he would do whatever the fuck it took to get the fuck out?

No, of course she didn’t, because she expected her Eggsy to take care of her now, like he always had. He knew he was worthless, ruined, not even worth the time or effect to love, it was just said to him now. Someone finally told him what he knew, and it felt freeing. He grabbed his bottle of Oxy’s that he hid, about 15 of them, just in case someone got a bit rough with him and he couldn’t go get whatever happened seen and taken cared of. Like when he had to let Jamal stitch his head up after Dean broke a bottle on his face. There was so much blood, and he was fairly sure he should have go to the A&E, but he didn’t dare. 

His mum wanted him gone? Sure, he could fucking do that. He was so fucking tired of taking care of her, of trying to keep his promise and always _failing_ , and it was too much. But fuck if he was gonna call the number to the people that got his dad killed. Nah bruv, he’d make shit right. He grabbed his gear, and fled. He finished school, he kept that promise. He could have gone to so many uni’s, fucking St Andrews was begging for him, and he planned on saying yes, but not now. 

He made for Tower Bridge, his favourite place in all of London to hide. There was this weird little ledge that he could hang out on, big enough for him to even lay down on, and he wouldn’t be seen unless he was very careless. He snorted up a few pills, maybe fancy a kip, and then make his rounds, he thought idly. 

If he was going to join the Royal Marines, or more likely kill himself, he might as well have a proper send off, even if he had to give himself. True, at first he planned on offing himself, seemed like the best plan to hurt others, but, Eggsy always had liked to hurt himself more. He was used to it. Fuck, he would admit he did cut or bruise himself from time to time, when Dean wasn’t being a dickhead, when things seemed normal for a minute, to remind himself what his life really was. Ryan caught him, he cut a little too deep. Eggsy of course said he got it when he miss-stepped running, but Ryan didn’t really question him. He didn’t need stitches, but he needed help back to his, and Ryan gave it to him. 

He crushed three more Oxy’s, and waited. He had a really high thresh-hold for this shit now, doing it as long as he had, so he was waiting for his high to hit. It seemed like it never would, that he would be stuck feeling the way he was, useless, pathetic, _wrong_. He was on his side, watching the Thames churn slowly under him, being used to the smell, he acted like the greenish waters were more beautiful, that lights from the road above making the water almost golden and boats on the water making diamonds appear on the surface, and oh, the shit was _finally_ working, and he rode his high alone this time. 

He senses it, before he hears it, like, the sound of cloth on brick, it’s hard to miss. He doesn’t open his eyes, no point to that. He knows someone is watching him, but he can’t be arsed to care. He ain’t gonna throw himself off the bridge right now, alright, just wants some time to himself before he leaves, alright? 

He hears something like a scoff, maybe a laugh, but he was not fucking aware that he had spoken out loud, and he still won’t sit up and greet the tosser who is ruining his little hidey-hole right now. 

“Oh dear boy,” The man says softly, mostly to himself it seems, “I have completely failed you, haven’t I?” His voice is so full of regret, that honestly, it makes Eggsy laugh. 

It isn’t a kind laugh, not by a long shot, “Like you’ve been watching over me then? Why now then, eh? Could have used the help years ago, didn’t I? Not your fault, innit? I’m the worthless one,” Eggsy hears a sharp breath, but doesn’t stop there, “me mum don’t fuckin’ care none. Never did after dad died, did she? I would hide for hours and never seemed to look for me or nothfink, you get me? Married that dickhead, had to fend for myself, feed myself. Fucking sold myself, and she don’t fucking care, she hates me.” The bitter laugh that was in him died, Eggsy choked back a sob. “Fuckin hell, I hate me. Who the fuck would love me anyway. Don’t matter, I gotta plan. Make something out’ve meself like.”

“And what, dear boy, would that entail?” The man that Eggsy thinks he has fairly sure dreamed up, someone to talk to while he’s all fucked up, sounds so fucking familiar, like, Eggsy should know this voive, but he can’t remember. 

“Join the Royals, yeah, like my dad.” Eggsy made sure he sounded proud of himself, but then again, this could be all for nought. “If I can’t get past my record I’m fucked though. Nothing big, mind. Little theft, solicitation a couple of times, but it shouldn’t be a big deal, hopefully.” He was a little startled with himself though, because he had planned on jumping, making his calls, his rounds, but instead he's joining Royal Marines. Well, ok then.

“No, Eggsy, I doubt it will be.” The man’s voice was hard, like his mind was made up. Another soft rustle of clothes, and all Eggsy could hear was the Thames moving slowly under him. 

When Eggsy sat up an hour later, about to crush a couple more pills, not really ready to head out and see people, he started to think that he wasn’t alone on the bridge, that he was talking to someone else. Because honestly, how the hell did the guy know his name? His _nickname_ at that. The thought was neither comforting or upsetting, rather more like a fact. 

When he left the flat it was 10 at night, and when he left his favourite hiding spot, it was well after midday, he had three Oxy’s left, and figured he would share with Ryan and Jamal at the Prince later, but first, he so badly wanted a cup of tea, that he almost shuddered. He hated being a cliche of any kind, but fuck, a good cup of tea is a thing of beauty, and the perfect cup of tea would even make the Queen’s knees buckle a bit. 

He rang up Jamal and Ryan, told them to meet him at the Prince early like, he had stuff to do. Half seven, they met him, he told them his plans, and they got wrecked. (Eggsy’s pretty sure he sucked someone off behind the pup, but he doesn’t know who, and frankly, at this point, he’s too scared to ask.) They understood why he was leaving, were even proud of him, if they were honest, and said their good-byes. 

He joined. He loved it. He thrived under all the pressure, the stress, it was amazing. Until it wasn't. Because Eggsy wasn't allowed this sort of thing, was he?

He left in the middle, his mum freaked out, and he was never able to say no to her, even after everything, he couldn’t help it. He wanted to know, no, needed to know that people wanted him, loved him. So, he did what Dean asked, took the beatings, and after Daisy was born, there was no question about him leaving. He would still hide, yeah, he needed too, when shit got to be too much, but, leave? Nope, ain’t gonna happen bruv. 

Not until Jamal makes a crack about his mum having low self esteem, and the leveled look Eggsy gives him means fuck all, because of course he has that, how couldn’t he? So he nicks a car, goes for a ride, gets arrested. He finally calls the number, facing true prison now, it’s finally something he can’t deal with on his own. 

The second he hears Harry’s voice, looking at him, he knew it was him that was on the bridge that night. They never spoke of it, not directly at any rate, not _yet_.

 

\---

 

These are the things he thinks about when he’s hiding from Kingsman. The place that did save him, it’s not like they weren’t going to let him join, he fucking saved the world. He gets the name Galahad, even though he knows the myths, he knows what Galahad stood for, and if anyone in this room knew anything about him, the _real_ him, they wouldn’t be giving this title either. 

He isn’t surprised that Harry is alive and is now Arthur. A part of him figured this was going to happen, that it was going to be _that_ kind of movie, of course the Knight doesn’t die, he saved the damsel in distress, he can’t die. 

Eggsy can’t help but start hiding again, more so than ever before, and, now because of his super sick spy skills, he’s even better at it. He gets sent out on his first mission, South Africa, take out another war lord, it took three weeks, and he’s back in London, not having a fucking clue what to do with himself. He hasn’t hidden in so long, he’s aching for it, he _needs_ , before he does something he knows he will regret. He barely files his mission report when Harry is speaking in his ear, asking him round for dinner, and if he could pick up a good bottle of wine, that would be lovely, thanks. 

Eggsy wants to yell get fucked, and run, but he doesn’t. Gentlemen, apparently, don’t run and hide when they can’t handle the world around them. They haven’t even talked about the whole blow up fight they had before Harry went and got shot in the fucking head, and Eggsy figures, ain’t gonna happen. 

He goes home, his own flat, his mom can have the house he was given, and truthfully, he can’t stand the idea of living with her again, he just wants them safe, because he finally was able to keep that promise, but that doesn’t mean he has to be there all the time now. Besides, he would be hard to explain the bruises and cuts and random burns. It works out for them all, really. He comes over for Sunday roast, calls once a week, asks Merlin to watch the cameras from the outside to make sure Dean doesn’t come over, and that’s it. He’s gotten very good at hiding, thank you very much, he isn’t about to let all of that go. 

His place is clean, modern, but a hint, ok, more than a hint, gothic touches everywhere. He paid someone to do it for him, he’s too busy, but the person did a brilliant job. They listen when he asked for his library/study to have little caves that he can snuggle into to read. His bed is massive, with the headboard made out of iron kissing gates from cemetery. The flat is mostly in blacks, greys, whites and reds. He fucking loves it. He wishes Harry would be willing to see it, but the older man refuses. Eggsy has no clue why. He showers and changes, goes with grey slacks and a shirt that says “keep calm or get fucked” (what, he can’t help it, it’s funny) and a lovely black pea coat, oxfords and he’s off to the Mews. 

It takes a bit to get there from his place in Holloway, but he gets there in time. Harry opens the door before he even knocks, compliments the bottle of wine, winces at his shirt, and invites him in. 

Eggsy’s glad he went with a red, Harry made curry, and it’s amazing, but Eggsy can’t really eat. Yes, ok, he has a crush, more than a crush, but he knows it’s because the man saved him, and he has massive issues, and that really, this is a bad idea. Except it isn’t because during desert, a fucking pavlova, as if that isn’t telling, proves to him what he’s known for ages. Harry wants him. Maybe even _needs_ him as much as he needs Harry. Eggsy pops a raspberry in his mouth, rolls it around a bit, and he watches Harry swallow hard. 

Second later they are somehow in the study of headlines of the Sun, Eggsy in Harry’s lap in the chair in the corner, kissing so hard it hurts, but fuck, Eggsy needs more. He wants to feel wrecked, he wants that ruined feeling back, he doesn’t want to feel saved, because after that, what else is there? Harry breaks the kiss to attack Eggsy's neck and he moans lewdly, fucking gagging for it. 

Harry stops, and he cups Eggsy's face, forcing him to look each other in the eye, and Eggsy _knows_ , this is it, he fucked up, took things too far, and Harry is going to ask him to leave. But nope, instead Harry says softly, “I should have made you come with me when I found you on the bridge,” His voice so serious, that Eggsy growls at him, finally snapping. 

“Fuck you,” He jumps off Harry, already bolting for the door, doing his level fucking best to get his shoes and coat on, “fuck you Harry, just let it be in the past, alright?”

He looks up, and Harry is standing in front of the door, blocking his exit, “Oh yes, I remember, saying I should have helped you sooner. I can’t believe you remember, you were so high.” Harry’s tone is flat, as if waiting for the real fight to start, steeling himself up for it.

“What do you want Harry? I’m sorry for the sit I said, before you left, that shit I didn’t mean, but you know wot, I don’t take that shit on the bridge back. You could have helped me. But fuck no, right? You told me to watch out for me mum, and what did that get me? Broken bones, broken heart, broken spirit. Mum still can’t really stand to be around me, says it hurts _her_ too much, so don’t you pull the same shit or I swear old man,” Eggsy spits out with as much venom as he can, he doesn’t know what, but he’ll make sure Harry hates him if he doesn’t let him leave _right fucking now_.

“Or what? Leave? Hide some more, fine, be my guest. I couldn’t step in Eggsy, not directly, but who do you think helped with payments to your coach? All those sort of things. I _tried_ Eggsy, I tried. And it wasn’t for Lee, it was for _you_. The second I was told about the _new_ ways you had started earning money I looked for you. But, you were always hiding.” Harry’s voice is just as cold, as harsh as Eggsy’s own was, and it knock the young man off his feet. Really, he sort of falls, his knees buckled a bit.

“And, wot, on the bridge I said I was leaving, and you trusted me? That worked out, I guess, in the end.” The fight had left Eggsy, he needed to leave, to hide, to _run_.

“Yes, But, then you left, and I had to wait until you called the number.” Harry had moved to be leaning over him, helping Eggsy stand up. “I want you to stay, I want to work this out, but, you can’t keep on like this dear boy. You can have Roxy and Merlin fooled, but…” Harry’s voice cracks a little. 

Oh, Oh god. “I want to go back to mine. If you want to speak to me, you can speak to me there.” Harry knows. The hiding, the hunting the streets, the bruises that aren't from training or the mission, the old ways. 

Harry moves out of his way, and he goes him. That was five years ago. Eggsy knew he wasn’t worth fighting for, not really, but, he sure as hell wasn’t going to do things on Harry’s terms, and only Harry’s terms. He hides all over the world now. He has a place in New York when London seems too clean for him. He keeps a place in Paris when all he wants to do is smoke and fuck. Harry never brings it up. They act as if they are close friends, but Eggsy always sees the small worried look in Harry’s eyes, and just can't bring himself to care. Harry didn’t follow. He should have known, but he wanted to see, really. 

So, here he is, almost thirty, sitting back in the spot under Tower Bridge, all kinds of fucked on Oxy and molly. He’d been alright for about a year. He thought he had left all this behind him. He had even told Roxy a bit about his past, even the whole being a whore thing (which if he’s honest, he loved, and can’t get off unless whoever he’s fucking, bloke or bird calls him a whore, or slut, or slag, whatever .. he tries not to think about it) and then shuts the conversation down when Roxy says he should see the Kingsman therapist, Morgana. Even Roxy sees her after certain missions. He says he might try, and instead picks up a young blond bloke to fuck him so hard he can’t walk properly for days. 

But, the bridge. He doesn’t remember coming up here, he really doesn’t. He stands up, and looks down at the Thames. He picked smoking back up as of late, so he reached into his suit jacket’s inside pocket, pulling out a packet of B&H Silvers and a lighter. He lights it, takes a drag, and tries to steady himself. He honestly can’t remember even coming to the bridge, to his spot. Maybe, possibly, his life isn’t as in control as he thought it was. Missions blur, he can’t remember what time zone he was last in, but he remembers leaving HQ, pissed off for no real reason because the recon job he did in Singapore went perfect. Even Merlin was impressed. 

He remembered getting to his flat, he takes another pull from his smoke, and he remembers punching something, and he looks down at his hand. Yup, bruised, bloody. One would think with the amount of people he’s punched his skin would get a bit tougher, but nope, he still bruises like a peach. _Lovely_. He starts to remember the pills, a pint or two, after that, he just draw a blank, a void, pure _nothingness_. 

He turns his head sharply at the rustle of clothing. Harry comes into view, not even trying to hide himself. He looks tired, impossibly tired, and Eggsy can relate. He almost breaks then, because he knows why Harry is there now, because the last time he was on the bridge, Harry wished he had saved him, taken him away, helped him. Harry doesn’t speak, he just looks at Eggsy kindly, nicely. He offers his hand. 

Eggsy chucks his smoke into the river, and bites his lip. He doesn’t even let himself think too much this time, “Yeah, alright.” He takes Harry’s hand. 

Harry’s always been able to save him before, and now, as much as Harry wants too, he has to save himself, from himself. But, Harry won’t leave him, he won’t be alone in this.

He never really was, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> see, it ended up kind of ok? honestly, i cried a bit writing this, getting out a lot of my own feels about parts of my life in it, it helped me in a couple of ways. 
> 
> )small edit, i'm fixing things that i had added/fixed in the second draft and i apparently c/p the first)
> 
> i'm always open to constructive criticism and help is always cool. i hope you guys like this. hit me up on my tumblr with prompts or junk. http://mockingjaybeevicious.tumblr.com/
> 
> thanks for reading!


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